


After Hours

by PunkHazard



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s hours past curfew (hers and Chuck’s), but this isn’t the first time the brothers have snuck out an hour from midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Mako Mori, and the worst trouble she ever got into with the triplets. Mako & Chuck are ~15 years old here.

Mako’s schooling Chuck in Mario Kart VII when she hears them— the Weis are quiet, but their boots are heavy, the floors are metal and they have a distinctive stride. It’s hours past curfew (hers and Chuck’s), but this isn’t the first time the brothers have snuck out an hour from midnight. This isn’t the first time Mako drops her controller and dives into a drawer for a pair of socks and her sneakers, either.

Chuck’s looking at her incredulously but Mako just lobs another pair of socks at his face. “Get changed.”

"What? _Why_?”

"Okay, stay here."

"Shut up, I’m coming with you."

Chuck follows her to the garage and they skirt around the motorbike area, where the triplets are gearing up, for the corner they’ve stowed their own bicycles in. Mako silently straps on kneepads over her cargo shorts, clips on her helmet while Chuck resolutely swings his leg over his bike’s frame, forgoing protection altogether. They wait for the Weis to pull out, three red tail lights disappearing into the distance before she gives the all-clear and they pedal after. Chuck observes after about ten minutes that the triplets are already gone, so far ahead of them that they’ll have no hope of catching up, but Mako just turns into an alley and ignores him.

Another few turns, into the seediest part of Hong Kong that Chuck has ever seen, and Mako parks her bike in front of a 24-hour store, watched over by a lean old man with a newspaper open in his lap. She waves, grins, and says something to him in Cantonese that Chuck has no hope of deciphering. The old man laughs, nods and shoos them away, rolls their bikes behind the counter and says in thickly-accented English, “Be careful.”

“‘Be careful’?” Chuck repeats as Mako ducks around the corner and wrestles open a basement window. There’s no screen, so she lowers herself through into a stairwell, gesturing for Chuck to hurry and follow her example.

"You’ll see," she says simply, taking the stairs down two at a time until they reach a door, muffled roars echoing through it from the other side. Mako pushes it open, slips inside and grabs Chuck’s wrist just before she disappears into a tightly-packed crowd. After what seems like a lifetime of jostling between sweaty bodies, Mako short enough to avoid shoulders but patiently waiting for Chuck to wind his way through, they stop one line of spectators short of the raised dais in the center of the room.

An announcer stands in the middle of the ring. 「Next up,」 he says, voice bouncing off the walls before being drowned in the crowd, 「the Wei brothers!」

Chuck’s jaw drops as Cheung takes the ring, both brothers leaning on the edge. He’s only ever seen them in their techie reds, strutting around the dome like they own the place, but here their fists are bound in black handwraps, all three wearing nondescript black shorts, shirts abandoned at the side of the ring.

He hisses to Mako, “They don’t get caught? No one records this?”

"There are machines here that jam electronics. No signal, and cameras don’t work."

"How did you know they’d be here? Did they take you here before?"

"No, I followed them here last year. They come every few weeks. Be quiet, watch the fight."

"The _fight_?”

Mako gives him a dead-eyed stare, one eyebrow raised. “You can learn something.”

Cheung finishes up his round in two minutes— for all the brutality, the Weis seem to be treating it more as routine or practice. It makes sense; Kwoon sessions usually stop just short of Rangers causing each other any real damage. (Chuck wishes he could let loose sometimes, himself— what’s the point of training with world-class boxers if you don’t even get to have a proper fight? He’s only learning because his old man thinks it’d be good prep for Jaeger Academy anyway.)

Jin’s opponent is taller than he is, twice as bulky, but he’s slow. Jin doesn’t drag out his fight, closing in and ending his round with an uppercut, then an elbow to the neck before stepping back and shaking out his arms. Thirty seconds, if that.

"They usually stay for two hours," Mako whispers to Chuck, "and take anyone who wants to fight. Lots of money moving around here."

"I should fight," Chuck mutters back, flashing her a cocky smirk.

"You would die," Mako tells him matter-of-factly before turning her attention back to Hu, who’s up next.

Hu’s an entertainer— the crowd’s volume, impossibly, seems to rise when he steps up, bouncing a few times on the balls of his feet. His opponent is wiry and lean, about his size, and they trade a series of quick, light blows before disengaging. Mako’s pretty sure Hu can end it quickly, given how unpolished the other man is, but he’s been bored lately and his brothers rarely humor him in the Kwoon.

He extends the fight for another five minutes, silent but taunting every chance he gets— sticks his tongue out, winks, dodges a blow and mimes brushing dirt off his shoulder. Chuck’s infuriated just looking at him and Mako’s rolling her eyes, but she hides a smile behind her hand when he feints stumbling over his own feet, faking an opening just to smack the other guy across the back of his head when he falls for it. His expression says it better than words could: _'How could you fall for that? Damn, you suck!'_

Chuck’s the one who notices the flash of metal slipping out of the other contestant’s handwraps, then tucked between his fingers. He shoves two people in front of him aside and yells into the ring before Mako covers his mouth and drags him back. 

“He’s got a razor! Watch out!”

Hu’s head snaps to the side at the sound of a familiar voice and he throws up a hand to block a fist aimed at his face, Cheung and Jin are immediately on their feet and looking in his and Mako’s direction.

"End it," Cheung says, just loud enough to be heard over the crowd and Hu obliges, right hand dripping blood but he’s a leftie anyway. Chuck doesn’t see what he does, but he hears a series of dull thuds from the ring, then a crunch, then the sound of a body hitting the mat.

"Shit," Mako says, hand still over Chuck’s mouth.

Cheung grabs her wrist before they have a chance to bolt, Jin snagging the back of Chuck’s shirt. Hu tells the announcer that they’re done for the night, grabs a shirt to wrap his hand and joins them as a few grunts move his opponent out of the ring.

"We’re going back to the Shatterdome," Cheung says, leveling a stare at Mako that reminds her far too much of Stacker’s disapproving looks for her to argue. "Now."

She knows the only reason Cheung hasn’t chewed her out already is because the Weis are also technically breaking a million different rules, and he’d be a hypocrite if he yelled at her for doing something as dangerous as sneaking out of the Dome to watch an underground fight when he and his brothers snuck out of the dome to _participate_ in said fight.

Still, he has her ride on the back of his motocrycle, holding up the back end of her bike while he carries the front, steering with only one hand. Jin’s doing the same, Chuck sulking behind him, and Hu’s got the cut on his palm covered in tape and gauze, held carefully at his side until they pull into the garage.

The garage, with its lights already on, Marshal and the Sergeant standing shoulder to shoulder at the entrance.

"We brought them back as soon as we realized they were there," Hu says defensively in Stacker’s office, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "We wouldn’t have let them do anything stupid anyway."

Herc is livid, his face a curious shade of red (he looks sunburnt, but Cheung keeps that observation to himself) while Stacker has his lips pressed into a disapproving line. “Sensei,” Mako cuts in, stepping in front of Hu, “I was the one who snuck out and told Chuck to come with me. They didn’t know.”

Chuck rolls his eyes; that seems to deflate Herc, but he inhales deeply and says, very carefully, “What were you thinking, anyway? I don’t just mean the kids, I’m asking how you three thought it was a bloody good idea to— to go to that kind of place.”

Stacker interrupts this time, with a hand on his shoulder. “Herc.”

"Stacker, I just don’t think it’s safe for the brats to be hanging around—"

"Sergeant," Stacker says, more insistently this time. "Let me handle this."

Cheung falls back, returning Mako’s anxious look with a pained attempt at a reassuring smile. Stacker and Herc turn away to speak— and a minute later, Herc whisks Chuck out of the office and back to his room.

"He means people like us," Cheung says when they’re gone, eyes narrowed. Jin wraps a restraining hand around his forearm, Hu leaning in to whisper something into his ear.

"Yes," the Marshal says, the tension in his shoulders giving away just how much effort he’s putting into staying calm, "Sergeant Hansen means people like us. Can you blame him?"

Mako frowns deeply, arms crossing over her chest, but she says nothing while Stacker turns his attention on the triplets.

"First off," he continues, "I want to thank the three of you for bringing Mako and Chuck back safely. And second, the four of you are suspended from access to the garage for two weeks. If you feel the need to make a trip into the city, you will require clearance from either myself or Commander Choi."

“ _Sensei—_ ”

"Miss Mori, you are dismissed. We will discuss this later."

Mako leaves reluctantly, and the moment the door shuts behind her, Cheung speaks up. “Mako is not in danger in Hong Kong, Marshal.”

"We know the seediest people in this town," Jin agrees, "we _are_ the seediest people in this town. They wouldn’t touch her if they valued their lives.”

"Sit," Stacker says, motioning at the chairs in front of his desk. He gets three apprehensive looks instead; none of them sit. "That’s an order, Rangers."

When they comply, their shoulders are plastered to each others’, Hu leaning slightly on Cheung.

"Where exactly were the five of you?"

Hu’s usually the one who answers, but this time Cheung takes the lead, slinging an arm over his brother’s shoulder. “The arena where you first spoke to us.”

"Why?"

"We wanted to see if the skills we learn in the program can be used practically."

"They can," Hu pipes up.

"Whose idea was it?"

Cheung opens his mouth but Jin cuts in before he has a chance to answer: “That’s irrelevant, sir. We make decisions together. If you plan to punish the one who suggested the idea, you can punish all of us.”

"Fair enough," Stacker answers. If he were being honest, and if Mako hadn’t been the one to sneak out, he’d find himself charmed by them rather than frustrated— after all, drift compatibility at its finest is exemplified by Rangers who make no distinction between themselves and their co-pilots and the Weis have done that their entire lives. "How important is it for you three to regularly attend these fights? Does it affect your relationship with the locals?"

"It’s not the locals that matter when we go." Cheung looks at Jin, then goes on at a slight nod— they don’t have much to lose by being honest with the Marshal. "There are some high-profile individuals who expect us to show our faces once in a while."

"Liu."

"He tells us not to bother, but it’s beneficial for him when we fight." When Cheung shifts, his knee bumps Hu’s hand through the material of his shorts and the younger triplet flinches, just enough to catch Stacker’s attention. Cheung stops long enough to squeeze Hu’s shoulder before continuing. "It’s not necessary, but it’s not prohibited in the rules for us to go."

"True, but it is against the rules to use Shatterdome vehicles for recreational purposes."

"Sir," Hu says, "you know we’ve been going since we started here. If Mako following us is the problem, we can take her with us and have someone keep an eye on her. She’s safe with us."

Pentecost sighs. He hadn’t planned to punish them too harshly anyway, and they’d spent a significant amount of time making sure Mako felt at home enough in Hong Kong to be at ease wandering the slums at midnight. In addition to being murderously protective of her, they’d also introduced a good chunk of their former contacts to Mako; if there’s one thing Pentecost can appreciate, it’s that. “I don’t doubt your sincerity, Ranger.”

"Whatever your decision," Cheung cuts in, "we accept the consequences of our actions. We never intended to put Mako at risk, she’s… important to us as well."

"Then," Pentecost says after a long, thoughtful silence, "the next time you attend one of these fights, you will report to me six hours in advance. If Mako wants to go, one of you will supervise her at all times. For the next two weeks, the rec lounge is off limits to the three of you, and games are disabled on your accounts on all workstations in the computer lab. These same conditions will apply to Mako until the four of you regain unlimited clearance to the garage."

Hu’s expression says _That’s all?_ but they remain silent, as if waiting for the guillotine to drop for real. Stacker motions for them to stand and he pins Cheung with a hard look. “You should have come to me in the first place.”

"We didn’t want to make any trouble for you, Marshal."

"I know." Stacker addresses Hu next, head canting to the side. "Ranger, your hand."

"It’s fine."

"Let me see it."

Hu doesn’t move, but Jin steps slightly in front of him and reassures Stacker, “We’ll go to the med bay, sir. It’s not serious.”

Pentecost nods, and doesn’t press the issue. “Then you’re dismissed.”

Later, when he enters Mako’s room, she meets him at the door. Before he can say anything, she levels a piercing stare at him, shoulders drawn back. “Marshal,” she says firmly, “Hu would not have been hurt if Chuck and I weren’t there. If you penalize anyone—”

"Mako—"

"It should be me. I would never have gone if I knew you would worry—"

"Mako—"

"They have always protected me, they shouldn’t be punished for my carelessness—"

“ _Mako._ ”

“ _Sensei?_ ”

Stacker fights back a smile at the thought that the Weis weren’t mistaken in placing their faith in Mako (paranoid and mistrustful as they are), and the pride that he could have been responsible, even remotely, for her integrity and loyalty. Not that he would tell that to her face when she’s supposed to be in trouble for sneaking out of the Dome past curfew.

"Your input has been noted, Miss Mori." Mako looks at him expectantly, braced for the worst, but she relaxes when he puts both hands on her shoulders and squeezes. "Next time you plan to follow them into the city in the middle of the night, you will let me know beforehand."


End file.
